


Point of No Return

by jackson1523



Series: Life in Motion [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Yikes!, and frankly i dont care, dan and tim were LITERALLY fired the day after that article came out, im just gonna say it right now i have no idea whether this timeline is at all accurate, is the time between the articles coming out, the only one that i KNOW is accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 05:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackson1523/pseuds/jackson1523
Summary: Things aren't looking too good on the coaching front, and Jack finds that out the hard way.





	Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to clarify if you aren't into Sabres twitter:  
> The guy Jack mentions hating that the Sabres tanked is reporter Mike Harrington, who is always taking to Twitter to report those Hot Takes. He will block you within five seconds of you disagreeing with him. Be warned.  
> Joe is Joe Yerdon! He is a Sabres beat reporter who is awesome and I love him.  
> Links:  
> [The original article saying Jack won't re-sign.](http://www.wgr550.com/articles/news/murray-meets-ownership-wednesday)  
> [Jack's interview with Joe Yerdon.](http://buffalonews.com/2017/04/19/sabres-eichel-gives-thoughts-coaching-perception-stories/)  
> Based on the prompt line: "Life would be easier if I was easier." (sorry Sarah this isn't funny, it's sad.)

The end of season interviews went well, in Jack's opinion. Terry and Kim were receptive, and seemed to really take into consideration everything he said. Which was good; the team had decided to have him speak their views, seeing as Jack was one of the few of them who basically had immunity. As soon as he left that conference room, he checked his phone, and saw a single text from Samson- _call me when u get this pls._ Jack dialed Samson's number, and headed out to the car back to the hotel.

"Hey, Sammy. What's up?"

"How did the meeting go?" Samson said quickly.

"Oh, I'm good, my day's been good. I had a nice breakfast--"

"Oh my God, shut up," Samson said, laughing. "Fine. How was your day, my lovely, sweet, caring boyfriend whom I love deeply with all of my heart and soul?"

"Why, thank you, my boyfriend who receives all of the love in my heart. It's been okay. The beds here are really fuckin' nice, and the hotel breakfast wasn't as bad as you would expect it to be."

"That's good!"

"Yeah. Just got out of the meeting," Jack said finally. He could almost _hear_ Samson sit up in attention over the line. "Terry and Kim were really cool. They seemed to really listen to us."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If you want me to be honest, I felt pandered to. It was...sort of nice."

"Jack, _everyone_ panders to you. You're the star around here."

"Hey, don't forget yourself. We're the face of this team. Together, the two of us."

"The two of us," Samson repeated, a smile evident in his voice. After a moment, Samson spoke again. "Any news on contracts?"

"Nope. None. Sammy, you know that we can't even _talk_ about contracts for another three months."

"When you _do_ sign your big, fat extension, will you finally treat me to that tropical island vacation?"

"Treat you?" Jack said with a fake affronted laugh. "I thought I was the star player here. If anything, _I_ should be the one being treated to a tropical vacation."

"Ugh, you're so annoying."

"Yeah, but you _love_ it," Jack said, dragging out the "o" in "love".

"I take it all back. I don't love you anymore."

"I'm hurt, Sammy. Truly."

"Are you heading back to the hotel?"

"Yep, and then I'm on my flight home, and then I am going to cuddle the shit out of you, because it's only been a day and I miss you too much."

"If this is how it is after only one night, how are you going to survive Worlds? Or the summer?"

"I'll cross those bridges when I get to them. For now, I'm allowed to be needy."

"That's fair. Want me to run to Wegman's for anything? It's not like I have anything to do until then."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or if you're fucking with me."

"No, I'm serious. Everyone else is too busy getting ready for their offseason vacations and shit."

"Hm. I would say...get something for dinner that we can just pop in the stove."

"Or...and hear me out, this is revolutionary, okay...we could just...order takeout."

"Is there ever a time where you _aren't_ a dick to me?"

Samson thought for a moment. "Nope. You just make it so easy, honey."

Jack sighed through a smile. He loved Samson _so fucking much._ "That's fair. Okay, the car's at the hotel, so I'm going to head up to my room and finish packing. Just, uh...grab some nice ass snacks from Wegman's. Go all out, I wanna binge-watch the Avengers movies when I get back."

"Jack, we've seen those movies, like, ten times. Can we please, _please_ watch something else?"

"Fine. What else do you wanna watch?"

"Something romantic. I'm about to lose you for four months, I want to be all soppy and gross with you while I have you."

"It's just the offseason, Sammy, I'm not, like, dying."

"That doesn't make it any easier, Jack."

"We can have this conversation when I get back in a few hours." The car pulled up to the hotel, and Jack thanked the driver and headed inside. "Okay, I'm in the hotel. I'm gonna head up and pack. I'll text to you once I get to the airport, okay?"

Samson sighed. "Okay. If you think of anything, let me know. Text me when your flight leaves, so I know when to go to Wegman's."

"You're gonna wait that long?"

"Yeah. That way, if you see anything in the airport and you get cravings, because I know you, and you certainly _will,_ " Samson said quickly, before Jack could interject, "you can text me and let me know, and I'll grab it while I'm out."

"You're so smart."

"I know."

"Okay, I'm gonna go, okay? I'll see you in a few hours."

"Seven hours, forty-nine minutes, and fifty-three seconds," Samson said after a beat, no doubt checking the countdown Jack made him set up on his phone (though Samson _totally_ wanted to make it, too, despite what he says).

Jack smiled softly. "Seven hours, forty-nine minutes, fifty seconds. I love you."

"I love you, too. See you soon. In case we don't get a chance to talk before you get on the plane, have a safe flight."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye." Jack ended the call, and quickly threw his belongings into his duffel. If the other guys were here, and heard that conversation, he would be currently collapsing under the sheer weight of chirps; the countdown, the overly-romantic goodbye. Which was really fucking ironic, considering that they're all the same way with their significant others and children.

Jack didn't have to be at the airport for another three-ish hours. What could he do to pass the time? He looked out his window; there was a beach right across the street. He grabbed his trunks out of his duffel, and quickly changed. Nothing wrong with getting a small tan, even if he...didn't exactly tan well.

He grabbed a towel, and slipped on a t-shirt and hat. He was glad he decided to bring his flip flops, because walking down to the beach in his dress shoes would look unfortunate and would also be super lame. He crossed the street, and set his towel down on the sand. He stripped his t-shirt off, and took a seat. He set an alarm for two and a half hours, and another for an hour and a half; he didn't need to have a tan line down his sides. He plugged in his headphones, turned on his music, and laid back and relaxed.

After an hour and a half, his alarm went off. Jack was briefly woken from his nap, and he turned onto his stomach and fell back asleep.

An hour later, Jack was woken from his nap again. He stretched, and felt the familiar tightness of sunburn across his face and back. _Fuck,_ Jack thought. He hoped to whatever the fuck is up there that it wouldn't be too bad. Which was pointless; it was _always_ that bad. He scrambled up, and pulled on his t-shirt.

As he headed back to the hotel, his mind wandered a little bit; he knew that Dan was going to be leaving. He had nothing _personal_ against Dan at all, but _professionally,_ well...not everything was roses. And it wasn't just Jack either, thank you very much. Most of the team, with the exception of a few of the more adaptable guys, were just as frustrated with the season as well.

He keyed himself into his room, and walked into the bathroom. He cringed; his face was already red as fuck. He shook his head, and turned the light off. He had to head out to the airport, and didn't have time to worry about his burnt skin.

***

The plane ride home was uneventful. Samson was right about the cravings thing, though; Jack spotted a bag of chips, and instantly he wanted an entire party bag of greasy, salty regret. He sent off a text to Samson, and got a smug _knew it_ back along with a string of heart emojis. He stared out the window as the plane landed in Buffalo, and he could finally, _finally_ feel the shitty season begin to slide off his back. The meetings with Terry and Kim were done, the clean-out interviews were posted, and he hadn't done a serious workout in three days (his offseason workouts still sucked though).

The wheels touched down, Jack disembarked, and made his way down the terminal towards the entrance. Once he crossed the point of no return, he saw a hooded figure waiting off to the side. A grin spread across his face, and he made a beeline for them. Their head picked up, and Samson's face lit up. Jack came forward and clapped Samson on the shoulder before pulling him into a brief hug; they _were_ still in public, after all.

"Ready?" Samson said, lifting an eyebrow. Jack nodded, and they made their way out of the lobby and across the street, towards the parking lot. After a minute of walking, Jack saw Samson crane his head to look around.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, just…" Samson saw something that he liked, apparently, before he reached over and grabbed Jack's hand. 

"Samson!" Jack hissed. "What are you doing?"

"No one's around, Jack. Look." Jack looked away from Samson's eager face, and saw that...he was right. There was no one around them at all. Even though Jack wasn't completely at ease, he felt himself relax a little. "Okay, my car's here." Samson dropped Jack's hand in favor of rummaging around in his pocket for his keys. He must have found them, because the car horn started beeping incessantly. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

"You okay, Sammy?" Jack said with a laugh.

"I can't get the fucking alarm to turn off!"

"It can't be _that_ hard. Just press the button again."

"Which fucking button?" Samson hissed frantically, his eyes searching the key rapidly for the button.

"Shouldn't there be a red button with, like, a little horn on it?"

"Look at it! What red button!?"

Jack looked closer, and...shit. Samson was right. The car alarm seemed to be getting more and more frantic. "I...uh, I…"

"Jack!"

"Ahhh! Samson, I don't know!" Jack hit a random button, and...silence. Blissful silence.

"How the fuck did you do that?"

Jack shrugged, and tossed the keys back. "Fuck if I know. Pressed a random button, man."

Samson rolled his eyes, and unlocked the car. Jack threw his duffel in the backseat, and then slid into the front. Before he could get his seatbelt on, he felt a hand slide along the back of his neck. He turned his head, and leaned forward to press his lips to Samson's over the console. Their lips met in sticky, long kisses, and Jack brought a hand up and molded it to the side of Samson's neck.

"I missed you," Samson murmured, pressing their foreheads together.

"I missed you, too. Can we go home? I'm tired, and you look very warm."

"Yes please." Samson started the car, and pulled out of the airport parking lot. The ride home was pretty quiet, and after a few minutes, Samson placed his hand palm-up on the top of the console. Jack intertwined their fingers, and quietly looked out the window with a small smile on his face. Samson pulled into their driveway, and Jack had never been so glad to see their small little house (they certainly could afford a larger one, but for now? This was all they needed). He grabbed his bag and went inside, and he made a beeline straight for the bedroom. He stripped quickly and pulled on a hoodie and some pajama pants. Samson was right behind him, and before Jack knew it, Samson was wearing the same thing. Jack took the step forward, and he hugged Samson tight. Sure, it had only been a day since they last saw each other. But they were about to go their separate ways for four months in a few days; Jack was going to take everything he could from this time they still had left.

After a good minute of just _hugging_ Samson, Jack let go, and loosely intertwined their fingers. "Come on. I wanna watch shitty Netflix with you and eat food our dietician would have a heart attack over."

They made their way over to the couch, and Jack saw that Samson had pulled out the mattress. He had put the sheets on, and put a bunch of their spare blankets on the bed, creating a nest. The TV already had _Love, Actually_ paused right at the beginning. In the middle of the blanket nest was a 2-liter bottle of Coke and a bag of Lay's chips. "God, I love you so much," Jack said in a rush, and let go of Samson's hand to move the food and cuddle in under the blankets. He could hear Samson shuffling around a little, and soon there was a warmth at his back and a hand snaking around his waist.

"Comfortable?"

"Mm, very."

"Good." Samson placed a kiss to the back of Jack's head. They cuddled together on the couch for awhile, Netflix playing softly in the background. For this, Jack just allowed himself to _feel._ He focused on Samson's arm around his waist, his warmth at his back, his breath puffing evenly on the back of his neck.

"Sam?" Jack whispered.

"Yeah?" Samson whispered back.

"Can...Can we visit each other this summer?"

"Of course we can. I would love that."

"I don't want to spend four months away from you."

"I don't want to do that, either."

"Good." Samson nuzzled into the junction of Jack's neck and shoulder, and placed a soft kiss there. "Hey, Samson?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Can, uh...can we go somewhere?"

"Go somewhere?"

"Yeah. You know, to Spain or some shit."

"Spain? Why?"

"I...I wanna be able to hold your hand in public, and kiss you wherever I want. We can't do that here, and I hate it. I want to go somewhere where we can just...be."

Samson was quiet for a while. "Okay. I like that idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We can plan it tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." Jack sat up, and grabbed the 2-liter. He opened the cap, and took a huge swig out of it.

"Ugh, now I have to drink your backwash."

"You love my backwash."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." Jack passed Samson the bottle, and Samson dutifully took a drink out of it. Jack opened the bag of chips, and together, they finished them off. The end of the movie found Jack half-asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Samson's throat, wrapped tightly around him like an octopus.

"Hey," Samson murmured. "Jack, movie's over."

"Nngh."

"Let's go to bed."

"Hhngh."

***

The next morning, Jack woke up not to sunlight streaming through their window, or to Samson waking him up, but to his phone buzzing incessantly. "Ugh. What fucking time is it?"

"10:45. Jack, I think you better pick up your phone."

A shock of adrenaline rushed through Jack's entire body. "What?"

"I'm serious."

"Sammy, what happened?" _They found out, they found out, they found out…_

Samson sighed. "Someone said that you weren't going to re-sign with the Sabres unless Dan was fired."

"What?!" Jack almost felt like he had whiplash.

"Yeah."

Jack hurried to pick up his phone. Dozens of texts from his agent, his parents, his teammates…Jack felt completely overwhelmed. He had no idea who to even talk to first. He sat up, and buried his head in his hands. "Jesus Christ, what the hell?" he groaned.

Samson rubbed a hand on his back. "I don't even know, dude."

"Who started it? What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know. I'll check for you if you want."

"No, no, that's okay. I can do it myself, I just need a minute to calm down." It took Jack a while for his head to stop hurting and his breathing to slow down to a normal pace. The entire time, Samson rubbed large, slow circles into his back.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now. Let's start from the beginning, I guess."

"Want me to go make something to eat? Give you some time alone to sort out your thoughts?"

Jack really thought about it for a minute. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't break down in tears at some point. And yeah, he gets that Samson is his boyfriend and doesn't actually give a shit, but Jack still doesn't really want him to see him like that. On the other hand, having a (somewhat) neutral party wouldn't hurt, either.

"I...I don't know."

"Okay. I'll go fry up some bacon and eggs, and you call your agent, okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you." Samson accentuated this with a soft kiss to Jack's temple.

"Love you." Jack watched Samson retreat into the bathroom, and he heard the sink running. He took a deep breath, and called his agent.

***

Forty-five minutes later, he had an interview set up with a local reporter, three small panic attacks, some breakfast, and an irate agent.

"Do you think this happened because of the exit interviews?" Jack said a few minutes after hanging up the phone.

"What?"

"The exit interviews. The one where everyone said I hated the team and the city because I wore my BU hat?"

"Oh yeah, clean-out day. Wait...you think this happened because of that?"

"Sam, it's no secret that Dan and I didn't exactly get along."

"So you think the media…"

"The media is getting back at me for not playing along, yeah."

"Jack, I highly doubt that."

"Why not! Why the fuck wouldn't they?" Jack stood up and started pacing the room. "That one guy, the guy who wrote the article, _hates_ that the Sabres tanked for me! Hates it! Hates _me_ by association."

"Jack, come on."

"He wants everyone to think that I was a horrible investment of two seasons. He wants everyone to think that I'm so far up my ass I can't even think straight. He wants everyone to think that I'm a pain in the ass, annoying ass kid who doesn't deserve to be in the NHL."

"You're spiraling, Jack--"

"It's because I don't fit the mold! I don't sit down and say the same three things. I don't like hiding my emotions. I don't like mediocrity! And because I'm not a media robot like half the guys on the team, I'm getting punished for it!" Jack wove his hands in his hair and sunk down against the wall, tears overflowing. His voice broke as he quietly whispered, "Life would be so much easier if I was easier." That was what finally broke the dam again.

Samson quietly padded over, and pulled Jack into his chest. Jack's whole body shook as he sobbed into Samson's shoulder. He wasn't just crying about this anymore; this was a culmination of so, _so_ many things. "And it d-doesn't help that f-fucking _Connor_ and _Auston_ are in the playoffs before I am." He fisted his hands in Samson's t-shirt. "We're good enough, Sammy. It's not f-fucking _fair._ "

Samson, bless his soul, was patiently waiting Jack out. "My entire career, I've been second best to Connor. Connor this, Connor that. Half the people here don't even _fucking_ want me. What the fuck, Sammy?"

"I know, Jack," Samson said softly. "It's fucked up."

"I'm playing as best as I can here. I just...I don't even know what I want." By now, Jack had mostly calmed down. He could feel the initial panic slowly leaving him, exhaustion and confusion replacing it in his body. "I just want to play, Sammy. I want to win a Cup with you, and Risto, and Ryan, and everyone. I just want us to rub it in the face of all those fuckers who don't think we ever could."

He felt Samson drop a kiss to his scalp. "I want that more than you could ever know, baby." Jack sniffled, and nuzzled into the hollow of Samson's neck. "If we win, I'm gonna kiss you right at center ice."

"Center ice, huh?"

"Yep. Rub it right in the face of all those fucking fans."

Jack chuckled to himself, and pulled away to press his forehead against Samson's. "Thank you," he whispered. Samson didn't say anything, just pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"You have that interview in half an hour, you better drink some water and try to get your voice under control."

"Can you get it for me?"

"What am I, your servant?"

"Please," Jack begged, breaking out his best puppy-dog eyes.

Samson laughed. "You're a grown-ass _man,_ and you're breaking out the eyes?"

"I've had a very emotional day," Jack said haughtily.

Samson huffed. "Ugh. Fine. Let go of me so I can get you your fucking water, you child."

Jack reluctantly let go of Samson, and he waited on the floor for him to get back. Finally, Samson returned, and handed him a glass of water. Jack gulped it down, and placed it on the dresser next to him. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Jack's phone buzzed, and Samson grabbed it for him. "Who is it?"

"It's the reporter. He says he's ready, just call him when you are."

Jack held out his hand. "Now or never, yeah?"

Samson handed him his phone, and Jack shot him a smile, before unlocking it and typing in the number. Samson stood up to leave, and Jack grabbed his hand. "Stay?"

Samson smiled at him. "Always."

***

Jack's interview with Joe felt like it took 500 pounds off of his chest. Joe was completely supportive, making sure to clear up Jack's account of this nightmare. Once Jack hung up the phone, he dropped his head back on the headboard, completely exhausted; he could feel a migraine coming on, and it was only two in the afternoon. He swung his legs out of bed, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once he finished, he could hear Samson puttering around in the kitchen, so he went out to join him.

A cardboard box labeled _Kitchen-Plates and Shit_ was open on the counter, and Samson was carefully placing plates and bowls into it. "How did your interview go?" Samson asked, not looking up from where he was rearranging something inside the box.

"It went great."

"That's good." Samson stuck out his tongue in concentration as he reached up and grabbed something from the top shelf. His sweatshirt rode up, and Jack's eyes zoomed in on the fading hickies on his lower stomach; ever since their Super Bowl bet, Jack was obsessed with leaving hickies where Samson's shirt would ride up.

"Do you need any help with packing?"

"Hm...no, I packed pretty much everything in here while you were on the phone."

"What about packing elsewhere?"

"Nah, we don't really need to pack anywhere else right now."

"Are you sure? We leave in two days."

"I'm positive. Come here and kiss me."

Jack happily obliged, and stepped forward to press a soft kiss to Samson's lips. "Mm. I'll never get over kissing you," Samson whispered into the kiss.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." Samson deepened the kiss, and Jack's hands moved to his shoulders.

"Sam...come on, man…" Jack wanted to do something. He wanted to...to...fuck, what did he want to do?

"Mm, yes, come…" Samson said, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Jack laughed and shoved at him.

"Ugh, shut _up._ " Samson leaned forward to try and kiss him again. "Hey! No!" Jack laughed, as Samson kept trying to kiss him.

"What?" Samson grinned.

"You know exactly what!" Jack didn't even know exactly what anymore. He finally relented, and let Samson kiss him again.

"Can we please take this to bed?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

"Jack."

"Mm."

"Jack. Wake the _fuck_ up."

"Sam?"

"Dan and Tim are gone."

"What!?" Jack was getting déjà vu over here.

"Terry and Kim fired both Dan and Tim."

"Are you fucking kidding?"

"Do I _sound_ fucking kidding?"

Jack picked his head up from where he had collapsed after their marathon sex session last night. He flopped his hand around on the bedside table where he had thrown his phone, and quickly checked the home screen. "Jesus Christ."

"I know."

"Well, this certainly doesn't make me look very good."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jack sighed. "I'm fine. I just...God, this _really_ doesn't make me look good."

"Do you wanna…"

"Wanna what? What am I gonna do here, Sammy?"

"You're right. Sorry."

"Fuck." Jack ran a hand down his face, and stretched under the covers. "Jesus, you really didn't hold back last night, huh?" He could feel _exactly_ how hard Samson had gone last night. He sat up and scratched at his shoulder.

Samson turned around, and Jack saw the large multitude of red scratches lining his shoulder blades. "You're telling me."

"Whoops."

" _Whoops,_ " Samson mocked, pulling a shirt on. "'Whoops' my ass."

"Shut up. We have bigger fish to fry right now."

"Like the fact that, the literal day after a false article came out about you refusing to re-sign with our current coach, said coach is fired?"

"Well, now that you put it like that, it's a really big fuckin' fish."

"What do you want to do?"

"Drop off the face of the Earth." Jack flopped back dramatically and covered his face with a pillow. "Otherwise? Sleep and feel bad about myself."

"Alright. I'm gonna work out, wanna come with instead of sleeping and having a pity party?"

"Fine." Jack forced himself out of bed, and changed into compression shorts and an old t-shirt. "Maybe working out will help me feel better."

It did not, in fact, help him feel better. Jack felt just as stressed, along with sweaty and over-heated and sore. "Are you okay, Jack?"

"Fine. Great. Truly," Jack said, lying face-down on the gym floor.

Samson nudged his side with his foot. "Do you...want me to get someone?"

"No. Leave me here to die."

"Okay. Find your own ride home then." Jack let out a groan, and heaved himself up.

"I can't feel my legs," he whined, taking a large gulp from his water bottle.

"Maybe you shouldn't skip leg day."

"I never skip leg day."

"Fine, fine." They arrived at Samson's car, and they got in to drive home. "Hey, Jack?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Jack sighed deeply. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Wanna go home and plan that tropical vacation?"

"Can't think of anything else I'd rather do. Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER 1D-RELATED TITLES WHAT'S GOOD BITCHES  
> I'm not sure if this title relates to the story at all, but eh. I just need to fucking title this fucking story.  
> No idea if this is in character. Don't actually care. Just want to work on something else and not feel guilty.  
> As usual, PLEASE let me know if you find any errors.


End file.
